


Hale Bangs the Inquisition

by etaeternum



Series: Mother of Griffons [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Promiscuity, Revenge Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etaeternum/pseuds/etaeternum
Summary: In her time in Skyhold, Hale gets to know the members of the Inquisition while on the rebound from a breakup with Nathaniel. This would have taken place during Bond of the Grey.





	Hale Bangs the Inquisition

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this on my mind for quite a while now and while I'm currently a little stuck with Fate of the Order, I thought I would write something fun. Enjoy! Please know this is all just for fun. I'm not too worried about the timeline, aside from this being far into the events of DAI. Everyone is really comfortable with each other.

After a few more nights of drunken debauchery in the Herald’s Rest, Hale found a semblance of comfort. The drinking numbed her heartbreak and what was left rose to the surface as anger. She found herself in arguments with officials and other patrons, occasional bar fights gained her a reputation. Though Alanna and some of her companions were gone, Hale repeatedly found her personality clashing with Skyhold’s overbearing propriety; the operation of the Inquisition did not pause for a new guest to adjust to the environment. At some point, she knew her way around the stronghold and its people, who would help and who to avoid.

It seemed each evening, the uptight and stuffy members of the Inquisition put their work aside at the pub. The interesting faces Sera had shown Hale the first night at the tavern appeared night after night, unless they were off on a mission, drinking to varying degrees of hammered. A fast regular at the tavern, Hale spectated, sometimes with Sera and often on her own.

Sitting alone on a stool in the bar one evening, already on her second tankard of ale, she felt the effects. The warm buzz across her head spread down her body and her tension released; the heavy emotions carried in her neck and shoulders lifted. She sighed.

“Long day?” The bearded-man the others called Blackwall walked up beside her. She raised her brow and looked at him without turning. “We haven’t met. I’m Blackwall.”

 _The Warden?_ She wrinkled her forehead for the briefest moment, confused. _Don’t feel the bond around him._ Hale took another gulp of beer and sat the mug down with a thud. “Sure, mate.” Inspired by Damia, she leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “And I’mma soddin’ Orlesian _Comtesse_.” She emphasized the last word, unsure if she pronounced it correctly. With a lazy wink, she returned to her beer.

Blackwall’s cheeks reddened and he shifted on his feet. He changed the subject. “Might I buy you a drink to welcome you to Skyhold? You can join us, if you’d like.” He gestured his hand toward another table where the dwarf they called Varric stood with his drink, waiting his turn to at the dartboard the short-haired woman named Cassandra took a shot.

Hale observed, curious. The dart landed in a large section of an outer ring and Cassandra laughed. The woman's eyes often wandered to the open neckline of Varric's shirt, Hale noticed and she couldn't blame her.

“Alright, I’m done!” Cassandra smacked the back of her hand on Varric’s shoulder with enough force for him to rub it afterward. “I still have work to do this evening, you know.”

“Oh come on, Seeker.” The dwarf chuckled, still tending to the impact of Cassandra’s hit. “One more game. I’ll buy drinks this round.”

“With what money?” The Iron Bull called from his bench near the wall. Hale had examined him with reserved interest each time she entered the bar. His knees splayed wide as he reclined against the wall. She had yet to see him stand up. “If you’ve got some, pay up what you owe me from the last bet.”

Hale followed the conversation as Blackwall joined in from where he stood. The members of the Inquisition joked with one another about whatever money Varric owed them from gambling and bar tabs. While they bantered, Cassandra snuck out, but not without making eye contact with Hale. Her gaze was piercing, critical, and undefinable. Hale felt her stomach flutter.

“Buy me that drink,” Hale said to Blackwall, finishing her beer and hopping off her stool. She walked toward the dartboard. “Then I’ll kick all yer arses.”

The man called Blackwall gave a loud chuckle in response and did as she ordered, buying her next drink before following her path. Hale mumbled an introduction to the group, unsure of their reception. Though she had not met them personally until now, she assumed they knew of her.

“Ah, the Hunter is here to join us.” Varric’s welcome tone and casual smile eased Hale’s nerves. “If she shoots darts like she shoots her bow, we are done for.”

She couldn’t resist the proud grin tugging her lips in response to his compliment.

As the game commenced, Hale listened more than joined their banter, following the patterns and dynamics of their mutual jibes. Blackwall, Iron Bull, and Varric’s comfort and familiarity in the tavern belied the reality of their pending doom. Understanding the differences in their personalities through their accents and body types, Hale found her curiosity piqued. But the fascination with these new individuals did not inhibit her competitive nature. On her turn, she cleared her mind.

Eyes narrowed, she fixated on her proximity to the dartboard, the weight of the dart in her hand, and vibrations through the floorboards interrupting her focus. The others faded into the rest of the bar; if they talked she didn’t hear, and if they watched she didn’t notice. Instead, she rolled the dart between her thumb and middle finger, settling on the best position, and took a breath. Her elbow bent and she drew back her hand, aiming by sight. The same as an arrow, she exhaled and threw, an assertive flick of her hand let the dart land in the bullseye.

“I definitely called that.” Varric chuckled, patting Hale on the back. “Well done, Hunter.”

Completely forgetting the bad mood and sadness that had plagued her since Nate left, Hale laughed. Intrigued and excited, she pointed to the Iron Bull.  “You playin’?”

He had been watching their game the whole time and engaged in the men’s banter half-heartedly. When Hale called him out, he met her gaze in prolonged silence. Hale felt her chest tighten.

“Alright, kiddo.” He chuckled and leaned forward to rise from his bench and the intensity caused by the heavy moment vanished. But as he rose, Hale’s eyes grew larger. Iron Bull towered over the rest of them and Hale expected his horns to scrape the support beams of the bottom floor's ceiling. They didn't, and instead the man extended his colossal hand toward her. The intensity returned.

“Fetch me those darts, would you?” He asked, smirking and nodding his head toward the dart board.

Her dumbfoundedness wore off and she wrinkled her brow. “Fuck off an’ fetch ‘em yerself. I don’t take orders.” She lifted her chin.

The bemused muttering of the other two men echoed Hale's reply, egging on her belligerence while goading the Iron Bull.

The large Qunari kept his eyes locked on Hale’s, and his grin widened. Even softened, the depth of his deep voice still rumbled as he added, “Please.”

Eyes narrowed, Hale’s frown pulled deeper and she kept his gaze. The comments and laughter of Blackwall and Varric faded into the tavern noise. Iron Bull’s smile didn’t flinch. His demeanor remained kind and patient, and still distinctly demanding.

As the seconds ticked on, Hale lost her willingness to wait. She huffed and stomped to the dartboard, grabbing the darts for the Iron Bull.

“There,” she said, dropping them into his hand. She shrugged with exaggeration. “You fuckin’ happy now?”

“Indeed.” He snickered, barely shifting to his position before the board.

“Tiny is used to getting his way.” Varric explained to Hale as she found a stool at the table he sat. “And I’m still impressed, Hunter! You held your ground longer than most would in your shoes.”

Hale’s eyes followed the massive man, the Iron Bull, throw a tiny dart with much more ease than she would have expected. Then her eyes glanced toward Varric. “Yeah, well, I’m just being nice ‘cause Alanna would box my ears if I punched any of her blokes… and I’ve never wrestled a Qunari.”

“I’m sure the Iron Bull would be more than happy to wrestle with you.” Blackwall mumbled into his tankard before he took a drink.

Hale found the human interesting. Along with holding secrets about his identity even from Alanna, his snarky commentary caught her off guard. An outspoken man waited behind that impressive beard.

“Would _you_ rather wrestle with me, _Blackwall_?” Hale winked at him and Blackwall’s face reddened.

He smiled, clearing his throat and lifting his brow. “I might be willing.”

His straightforwardness made her laugh and the rest of the table echoed. Their conversation drifted to their most recent mission, comparing their notes on the Hissing Wastes in Orlais, but something else caught Hale’s attention. A woman Hale recognized from the meetings with Alanna smiled at the bar patrons as she walked right past them to a table with the Inquisition’s Commander. Hale knew the man to be involved with Alanna.

In the tavern light, the woman glowed from the fine fabrics she donned and Hale was mesmerized. Even off duty, she carried the same ledger Hale had previously observed, but in this setting, she looked relaxed. Skin smooth, lips full, beauty exemplified by makeup, Josephine was fascinating.

“Good eye, Hunter.” Varric patted Hale on the back. “And no offense, but Ruffles might be out of your league.”

The Iron Bull chimed in. She heard the smile in his voice even though he didn’t look her way. “You don’t know that. Sometimes opposites attract.”

Hale felt her stomach tighten.

Adjusting his stance to throw, Blackwall called over, “Truer words were never spoken, Bull.”

Their commentary shifted again and Hale tuned them out, following the mouth of the Ambassador in her casual conversation with Cullen.

Directing the conversation back to Hale, Varric commented, “If you managed to woo Ruffles, it would be worthy of a novel, Hunter.”

As he leaned across the table so she could hear him, Hale realized she had a gaping view down his shirt from this angle. Just a few inches shorter than her, shoulders wide, he was sturdy. His stature did not diminish his musculature and the generous hair on his chest called to her senses. She felt her palms tingling with the desire to touch it.

 _Yeah, I’d give you something to write about._ The thought came to Hale’s mind on impulse and she felt her cheeks flush. As far as she could tell, Varric was taken by the one he called Seeker.

Still blushing, Hale scoffed and pointed to the dart board. “Fuck off and play the sodding game.”  
  
Sitting back in her seat, she reached for her tankard. She watched the men joking, taking a break for drink. Her eyes darted back to Josephine to spot her mid-laugh. Hale sighed. She accepted her fate along with the inevitability of ploughing the Inquisition. _Alanna’s gonna kill me._

**Author's Note:**

> Who do you think is going to be first?!


End file.
